Twenty-eight

AWARDS WERE DELAYED because of the length of our match. There were still two pro matches to be played, but the crowd was already thinning. At seven we were called to the podium. We joined a bunch of other players, coaches, and fans to have a victory dinner and dragged ourselves to the hotel. I’d been drinking water from the moment I got off the court and now I had to pee about every five minutes. At least that meant I wasn’t still dehydrated.

I was exhausted, though. I hardly kept my eyes open during dinner. Lissa and Melody gently got me ready for bed and I fell quickly asleep.

We woke in the morning with plenty of time to make love before we drove to LAX and boarded our flight for Seattle.

Wendy met us at the airport Monday. She should have been in class, but maybe Kate was busy with the Trips. We loaded our bags in the car at passenger pickup and I slid in front, reaching to hug Wendy. One look and I knew something was wrong. Wendy was barely holding it together. She ignored my offered hug and pulled away from the curb. We buckled up and Wendy hit the freeway at seventy.

“What is it, Tiger? Where’s Kate?”

“She sent me.” Shit! The last time Kate gave Wendy an order she was in trouble and used Wendy to get a message to us. Wendy’s terse statement indicated that this had been an order and she wasn’t happy.

“Where is she?”

“Studio.”

“Is she alone?” Wendy shook her head. “A model?” Another head shake. “You’d better take us there.” A nod.

Fifteen minutes of silence later Wendy pulled up behind the studio. Melody and Lissa were frantically silent when I looked back at them. They were holding onto each other like that would save the world. Wendy slammed on the brakes and we all piled out and rushed the door. We pushed through the clothing and found Kate sitting alone in the middle of the studio floor. She was surrounded by drawings and sketchbooks, many of which had been torn apart. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she repeated, “Shit. Garbage. Sophomoric. Crap.”

“Kate! What are you doing? Don’t ruin your art!” I yelled as I rushed toward her.

“Stay away! Liars! Liars! All of you are liars! It’s all garbage!”

“That’s not true, Kate. I love your art.”

“Don’t patronize me. You of all people. You with so much talent you have to hide it. Nothing I have will ever be as good as yours. You told me I was good. I believed you. And you hide what you can do so I won’t feel bad. Well, I do feel bad! I can’t work here. I can’t live here.”

“Fuck this shit,” Melody said. She stepped over the mess on the floor and picked Kate up. Melody is little, but she’s strong, especially when she’s mad. Lissa was right beside her and when Kate put up a struggle, it only took a moment for the two of them to subdue her. They dragged Kate to the chair and the three of them piled into it, practically smothering Kate in their hugs. I heard Lissa repeating over and over “We love you. I love you.” I could hear Melody’s voice, but not to understand the words she was pouring out to Kate.

I sat on the edge of the dais and looked at the mess Kate had made of her drawings. Why? Why?

“Who told you your paintings weren’t good enough?” I demanded, holding up a sketch of the Trips that I especially liked. It had been torn diagonally through all three of them. “Who made you do this to these treasures?” I was sure this hadn’t been Kate’s idea. Someone had to have been tearing her down. Kate’s sobs were dying to hiccups. I barely heard the one word she spoke.

“Neil.”

“That worthless piece of shit? You believed him? Why was he here?”

“He wanted to see more of my work. I didn’t see any harm in it. Just publicity.”

“Some people just aren’t worth the effort,” I said, disgusted.

“He was nice and well-behaved. He complimented my paintings and started in on his spiel about needing him to represent me in New York. I knew he would, but I wasn’t having any trouble telling him no until he saw the painting. Now I can’t even look at my garbage.”

“What painting?” I asked. She motioned vaguely. My eyes shot up for the first time to where my latest painting was draped in the corner of the studio. Only it wasn’t draped anymore.

“I didn’t show him. I was putting a canvas away and when I turned, he was staring at it. He started saying that this was what he was talking about. I shouldn’t hide paintings like this. It was better than anything he’d seen. It proved I was a much better artist than you. All he could do was praise it. And then I saw it.” She started crying again. Melody and Lissa were trying to see what she was talking about, but they weren’t in a position that they could see the canvas.